It's Criminal, Baby
by Sushi Chi
Summary: Puck has finally found Kurt, after searching for much too long, he found him. Puck/Kurt Future!fic


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. But I am watching Green Hornet right now. Like a Boss.  
>AN: The idear came from a Deadpool comic. Mainly saw a picture of him holding a gun and saying Puck's first line. I took that line and made something totally different and a hell of a lot more Puckurt than in the Deadpool comic. Trololol. Anyway, beta'd by my fantastical friend. Enjoy!**

Puck's hand didn't tremble, it was steady as he held the gun in the air. A smirk ran across his lips, "That is a gun in my pants," he started, "but that doesn't mean I'm not happy to see you, Hummel."

Kurt raised an eyebrow elegantly. Fixing his cuffs, he scoffed. "I wasn't expecting company, please forgive my poor host habits that I've shown you." He walked over to the bar, not worried about the gun Puck had tracking him, "Drink?" He asked, holding up a bottle of amber liquid.

Puck let out an airy chuckle, lowering his gun, he shrugged. "Sure. What's a drink between old friends?"

Handing the glass over, Kurt said, "Drinking on the job. Tsk. I should report you."

"Go ahead." Puck replied, "But as soon as you walk in there to tattle on me, you'll be arrested." Kurt nodded, "You know that my bosses really don't like people who deal forged or stolen art."

"Oh yes." Kurt took a sip from his glass, the ice clinking against the glass, "Of course. You're here for my illegal art dealings."

"You say that as if you have other illegal dealings." Puck said slowly.

"Did I?" Kurt asked sarcastic, "Sorry. You must have read into that wrong."

Puck's eyes narrowed, but he didn't go down that path of questioning, at least, not yet. "So, how exactly did Kurt Hummel, kid from Lima with big Broadway dreams turn into an art dealer?"

Kurt sat down, "You know how the story goes, Puck. That kid from Lima wasn't expecting New York to happen. Can't afford to live there, can't get a part in the big stuff, only small plays that are shown in the sort of alleys were bad things happen. Next thing you know, that kid from Lima with big Broadway dreams is learning from the best. He's getting money, he can afford to eat. He's introduced to the rush and thrill - you know what type I'm talking about. To top it all off, he's good at it." Giving a half smirk, Kurt continued, "He's so very good at it."

Puck snorted, "You're right. I've heard that story before. I'm never impressed with it."

Kurt shrugged, "So, how did you get to be big bad Special Agent Puckerman of the FBI?"

"Much like your story, but in the opposite direction." Puck took a drink, "I was recruited, I was good at it. You're looking at one of the top agents."

"No body likes a boaster."

Puck laughed, "Fuck off. It's not like you've never bragged."

"This is true." Kurt conceded. "So, other than working on my case, been doing anything interesting?"

"Not really. Haven't had much time. Catching the bad guys kind of takes over your life." Puck shrugged as he finished his drink. Sitting the glass down on the table, he ignored Kurt's protest of using a coaster. "It's a lonely life."

"That table is very rare. You're going to leave a water ring on it." Kurt protested.

"Is it an illegal table? Did you acquire it through your shady dealings?" Puck asked, giving the table a once over.

Kurt frowned thoughtfully, setting his glass down on a coaster, he said, "As far as I know there is nothing illegal about that table. It's just rare and rather pretty."

Puck nodded, "Okay. But you keep vaguely referencing other shaddy dealings that aren't about art." He paused, "You're not selling people are you?"

Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion, "Puck, I'm a criminal, not evil. And before you ask, I don't kill people either."

"Then you have them killed for you?" Puck asked, trying to not laugh.

"God no. What's wrong with you." Kurt exclaimed, "Jesus, Puck. What do you think I am?"

"A shady criminal." Puck shrugged, "I know about a lot of good people who turned out to be some of the worst criminals."

"I deal art." Kurt said. "It's not that horrible."

"But you do more than deal art." Puck said.

Kurt's eyes narrowed as he stared at Puck, "Do you have proof of that?"

"No."

Kurt's grin broke out in a pseudo innocent smile, "Then no. I don't do more than deal art."

"Liar." Puck smirked.

Kurt shrugged, "It's in my job description."

After another pause, Puck asked, "So how have you been?"

"Other than having a drink with an FBI agent I used to go to school with?" Kurt replied, "Kind of lonesome, actually. Whenever I see people it's always about work and we never just hang out and have a drink."

"We're having a drink." Puck stated.

"No, we had a drink. We've both emptied our glasses. Also, this is about work." Kurt pointed out.

"True." Puck nodded. "So basically, we're both lonely."

"Basically." Kurt agreed.

"This blows." Puck slouched in his seat, "I like you Kurt! I don't want to have to arrest you. I mean, we went to school together. We were in Glee together. I've stayed the night at your house and I know what you're like in the mornings both when you have coffee and when you don't."

"Hell, the last time I saw you was six months ago at dad's barbeque. Luckily you hadn't realized I was the one you were chasing." Kurt added the last part thoughtfully.

"You dad is like a wizard on the grill." Puck smiled.

"You don't have to arrest me." Kurt said quietly, looking out the window.

"Fuck I don't." Puck said, staring at Kurt. "We know you do illegal shit. I can't let you go. For one thing, my men are downstairs waiting for me to bring you down in cuffs."

Kurt turned to Puck, "Screw you and your men." His voice was full of emotion, "If I have to be taken to jail I sure as hell don't want it to be the guy I have a crush on!" He paused, eyes wide. "I didn't say that out loud did I?"

"You've been crushing on me?" Puck asked, surprised.

"No." Kurt said hesitantly.

"Oh God." Puck's eyes as wide as Kurt's, "That's why you were acting so weird at the barbeque."

Kurt hid his face in his hands. "Oh God. Kill me now." He sighed and sat up. "Fine. Are you going to arrest me now?"

"What? No." Puck pointed at Kurt, "You just said you had feelings about me and that shit wasn't a lie. We need to discuss this."

"What is there to discuss?" Kurt asked, "You're FBI. I'm a criminal. If you decide you like me back, we can't exactly go on dates. If I end up in prison-"

"You would. We have all sorts of evidence on you."

"-I'll be there for years. We can't start dating. There is no point in talking about this. Your men are downstairs."

Puck hung his head, "You're right. It's just. It's fucked up, is what. I mean, this whole time I've had your case we've been doing that flirty Catch Me If You Can shit and then I realize it's _you_ who I'm after and I feel weird and I think it's just because I knew who you were before all this illegal stuff and then you say you've been crushing on me, which helps explain the whole flirty Catch Me If You Can shit and now I want to date you, or at least have sex with you, but I can't because you're a criminal."

Kurt blinked, "That was a lot of information in one sentence." He paused, "So, wait. You like me back? Even better. Makes the idea of prison so much more enjoyable."

Puck glared, "Quit the sarcasm." He sighed, "I wish we could find a way to-"

"Personally, I vote for no arrests." Kurt shrugged and leaned forward, "Think about it Puck. You and me? We could manage to get out of the situation. And I know a guy, we can even go far as to fake our own deaths-"

"Whoa." Puck held up his hand, "Slow down. We don't even know if we could stand each other in a relationship. I have a career. I can't go faking my own death."

Kurt frowned, "You're right." He sighed, "I'm sorry." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a gun and leveled it at Puck, who in turn froze, "I'm so sorry. But I can't go to prison." He stood up and walked backwards towards his wall. "I'll send you a post card." Giving a small smile, he pressed against the wall with his elbow, and a door opened.

At Puck's shocked face, Kurt said, "The guy I like is an FBI Agent, do you really think I wouldn't be paranoid enough to put some secret passages in my house?" With that he walked into the passageway and closed the door. He heard Puck yelling and shooting his gun off at the door.

**Fourteen Months Later**

Puck opened the entrance into the small coffee shop. The sea air was cut off as the door shut and bell sounded. Taking off his sunglasses, he looked around and grinned at the image of Kurt's backside to him, cleaning a table.

"Be with you in a second." He said over his shoulder. After finishing wiping the table off, Kurt nodded to himself and turned around, "How can I help- Puck?"

"Sup, Hummel?" Puck smirked at Kurt's shocked face. "What type of coffee would you suggest? And I'm a peckish. Got any muffins?"

"You're here to arrest me." Kurt's shoulders sagged.

Puck rolled his eyes, "Dude, I'm on vacation. Three weeks worth of it. Ain't gonna be arresting anyone." He shot Kurt a grin.

"You're on vacation?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Yep. So, tell me Kurt, are you busy tonight?" Puck walked closer to him, "Show me around this nice little beach town?" He paused, "And by 'little beach town' I mean 'bedroom'."

"Of course."

"Are you saying that about what I really meant or is that your answer?" Puck asked, confused.

"Does it matter?" Kurt replied easily.

"Not if it's the same answer to both."

"Would you think for a second that it wouldn't be?" He looked Puck up and down, "Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?"


End file.
